


Muddy and Bloody

by satanic_panic



Category: Mortal Kombat (Video Games), Mortal Kombat - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22615111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satanic_panic/pseuds/satanic_panic
Summary: Will Erron ever stop leaving mess everywhere?
Relationships: Erron Black/Reader
Kudos: 15





	Muddy and Bloody

You wanted to be royally wrathful at Erron, he had left his guns everywhere again, the floors were caked in mud, leaving a trail from the door to where he was stood in the kitchen with a smirk and a cigarette; you wanted to be angry, you really did, you wanted to be furious and scorn him and curse him out. But he looked so good stood there, no shirt on, the offending article of clothing, soaked in mud and blood, sat in the sink in dirty, bubbly, water. You sighed, shaking your head at him. 

“Are you incapable of cleaning up after yourself?” You asked, pulling the shirt out of the sink and wincing at the smell; washing up liquid mixed with blood, mud, and gunpowder. It reeked to high Heaven, and all the way down to the seven circles of Hell, and back again. “Fuckin’ Hell, Erron!” 

He gave you that dashingly handsome half-smile. “C’mon, good lookin’, don’t be angry at me.” 

You huffed, tossing the shirt back into the sink, you couldn’t stand to touch it, or have its smell offending your nose again. “Look at the mess you’ve made, Erron, how can I not be angry?” 

“Because you love me?” He asked, biting back a grin. “And because you let me get away with everythin’?” 

You wanted to laugh, biting your lip and shaking your head. “Both of those things might be true, but that doesn’t mean you can’t clean up after yourself.” 

“You’re so cute when you’re angry,” Erron mused, licking his lips. “It’s like watchin’ a dog trying to bring a stick in through the door.” 

You knew he was trying to make you laugh, just as you knew that he was succeeding, which made you want to be even angrier. “Would you stop trying to make me laugh?” 

“No,” he answered, shaking his head and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. “C’mon, sugar, don’t be mad at me.” 

You placed a hand on his chest, rolling your eyes. “I never can… for some ungodly reason.” 

He kissed your forehead, one hand travelling down to your backside, a smug grin on his lips when you leaned into his touch. “I can make it up to you.” 

“You better fuckin’ make it up to me, cowboy,” you said, halfway between a moan. 

He moved his head so that his lips were by your ear as he whispered, “sugar or spice?” 

“Spice.” 


End file.
